


5 Times Serving Thranduil and Loki Totally Sucked

by locusinbloom (Fractual_Visions)



Category: The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Domestic, Humor, M/M, Multi, Sex Contests, community: naughtylokiconfessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 15:15:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1189902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fractual_Visions/pseuds/locusinbloom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"How dare you speak to me in that tone? I have lived many times the lives of mortal men." Loki scowled.</p>
<p>"Is that so? I have lived through the great Ages, walked in the twilight realms, seen the sun made and the moon set sail, counted time by the rise and fall of nations. You are an insolent boy to me." Thranduil drew himself up and raised his chin. "And I am taller than you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	5 Times Serving Thranduil and Loki Totally Sucked

**Author's Note:**

> Done for the [Naughty Loki Confessions](http://naughtylokiconfessions.tumblr.com) blog of which I am a devoted follower.

Dwarves had many secrets. Elves were not known for the same. Elvish reputation was of shared knowledge. Freely given for the illumination of Miðgarðr or, being translated into Westron, Middle Earth.

Not all knowledge, however. Their most closely guarded secret was traveling outside the physical realm into places distant, both beautiful and terrible. Of those with mastery of this skill, the Elves of the Greenwood were best. Of them, none surpassed Thranduil, King.

He used it mainly to watch the archery competitions on Vanir. Sometimes he bet with Legolas on who the winner would be.

That is, until he noticed the younger Prince of Asgard. Suddenly archery was a pale entertainment when compared with Loki-watching. Thranduil’s ghost followed him almost daily through the library, the sparring arena, the council chambers, the quests for mischief. And naturally, the baths.

Thranduil reclined on a gilded couch in his private rooms. He was alone. You didn’t count. A lowly servant wasn’t somebody in Thranduil’s opinion. You wished he would send you on an errand so you could do something other than stare at the same spot of floor. You figured your gaze was wearing an indentation in it.

Thranduil’s mind was in the magnificent baths of Asgard again. They put even his own bathing pools to shame. He stepped into the water with Loki. Ignoring the other occupants, Loki floated on his back, running a seductive hand through his dark hair. He looked Sinda, dark and ethereal. Thranduil watched this for several minutes before reaching a cautious hand to touch it himself. His caution hardly mattered. He was a ghost here, neither seen nor felt.

The moment his hand connected, Loki grinned triumphantly and grasped Thranduil’s wrist, grip solid as it was strong. He rolled atop Thranduil with a graceless splash, coincidentally throwing water in Thor’s face.

Thranduil yelled in surprise as the front of his robe soaked through. Loki completed his roll by ending up on the floor beside the couch, naked and dripping.

Your heart was pounding. Only by the greatest effort, you forced your gaze back to the floor. You had never, ever seen anything like that. You marvelled at magic so strange and powerful.

"You!" Thranduil gaped. "Loki!"

"I." Loki smirked.

"How?"

"I have found secret passages between the Realms. As you watched me, so I watched you."

Thranduil lounged back against the couch with one leg hooked casually over the back. He tossed his hair carelessly over the pillow.

"And you like what you see?"

"Oh, very much,” Loki purred.

"Servant!" Since Thranduil couldn’t see your face, you rolled your eyes. Three centuries of service seemed enough to learn someone’s name. "Bring towels. Clean this puddle. Fresh robes for me. Clothes for our guest."

Finally a task. You rushed to comply. You moved about the room, collecting the needed items, doing the complicated, familiar dance required to never turn your back on Thranduil.

"Are your servants afraid that you will stab them?" You could hear the amusement in Loki’s voice.

"They are afraid I will exile them if they turn their back to their King."

Loki snorted. “Most ridiculous. You force your servants to make an awkward spectacle of themselves. Our servants pride themselves on silent, discreet service.”

They abandoned the topic for kissing.

You offered the clothing on upraised arms with bowed head. Over your knee was draped a cleaning rag. You would clean the floor once they took the robes, according to etiquette. From the sounds, you figured it might be a while. Thank Eru for strong arms.

"Is your servant going to kneel there all night?"

Thranduil shrugged. “Who cares?”

"I do," Loki hissed. "Send that creature away. Why is it staring at the floor?"

"Where else would my servants look?"

"In your face."

"They would never dare."

"Then you are a fool," Loki said, "to hide their eyes which reveal their betrayals before they come to fruition."

"And you are a fool to imagine that servants of the Greenwood ever betray their homeland."

"Look at me!" Loki commanded.

You respectfully raised your eyes to his feet. A godly strong hand grasped your chin and forced your head up further. Sharp green eyes met yours and studied you like a species of bug.

"This one is safe," Loki decided. "It can stay."

Thranduil slapped his thigh in derision. “Oh, just get out of here. Since the Prince of Asgard is so determined to mop my floor for himself. And while you are gone, report to the keeper of casks for three stripes.”

~~

"Always keep your head up in my presence." Loki’s tone permitted no argument. Thranduil did not countermand him, but he scowled furiously every time he looked at you.

Tonight was a feast in Loki’s honor. Thranduil and Loki were preparing. They had not stopped bickering for a second.

"How do you call that hair? I could hang it up and make a curtain of it."

"Why do you cut yours short like a eunuch? It scarcely becomes a prince. And do you never trim and gel your eyebrows?"

"Only ladies wear long hair and my eyebrows are perfect without being slathered in slime."

"Fine, go that way. Let everyone mock me for cavorting with a troll."

"How dare you speak to me in that tone? I have lived many times the lives of mortal men." Loki scowled.

"Is that so? I have lived through the great Ages, walked in the twilight realms, seen the sun made and the moon set sail, counted time by the rise and fall of nations. You are an insolent boy to me." Thranduil drew himself up and raised his chin. "And I am taller than you."

"By an inch, you arrogant hraumi!"

It was like watching children squabble. As with all servants, you were forbidden to speak, otherwise you would have told them both to shut up.

Had you ever found standing still boring? Eru forgive you. You had not stood still for a moment today. Thranduil demanded things brought and Loki sent them away again. Loki demanded his hair brushed and hardly was the task started when Thranduil insisted you dress him. You slipped the first silks over his shoulders and Loki wanted wine immediately.

In theory, you answered only to Thranduil. In practice, you were punished no matter who you chose to disobey.

~~~

Mealtimes were nightmares unto themselves. Most times they ate in the feast halls or in the forest. When they did not, they ate in Thranduil’s private rooms. It was on those occasions that you were forced to wait on them.

Thranduil ate with his dining sticks. His food was always delicately sliced into small bites. Loki refused to ate with anything other than a serving fork and his bare hands.

"You eat like an orc," Thranduil complained.

"In Asgard, my manners were considered dainty," Loki sniped, while grasping a whole chicken leg in his hand and allowing the juices to run down his chin.

"Wipe his face," Thranduil commanded.

You unfurled a napkin.

"Touch me and I will bite your fingers off."

You re-folded the napkin and returned it to the table. Mentally, you patted yourself on the back. The urge to throw it on the floor had been strong.

"More wine!" Loki thrust his cup at you. You hefted the pitcher from the serving tray.

"Don’t get that within his reach," Thranduil said.

How were you supposed to prevent that, you wondered irritably. Loki deftly snatched the pitcher from your hands and began to drink from it.

"Oh, stuff a carrot in him," Loki instructed.

You blushed. You bowed to Loki without making a move to obey. He didn’t seem to expect you to.

"Of course you can’t expect dignified behaviour from one who won’t even groom his eyebrows."

"That again." Loki sighed. "Perhaps. If it would please you."

"Well chosen. Servant! Fetch water and tools. You will attend him immediately."

You wished you could say this was an unusual request. You wished, but you could not. The things you had watched at their shared table and the things you had been commanded to do… this didn’t make the top ten. Maybe not the top twenty.

~~~

Thranduil had a brilliant sapphire sitting on his table. He was a studying a thick tome with frowning concentration. Loki was reading over his shoulder.

"The sorcerer is wrong," Loki remarked casually. "This is a beautiful sapphire. Are you making me a gift?"

"No, it is not for you. Also, I would have you know that this is an ancient and beloved source of spellcraft."

"Still wrong," Loki shrugged. "To trap starlight, gems must be heated to the temperature of liquid rock. Less and they will leak."

Thranduil tossed his head. “What would you know of it? You are neither an elf nor a dwarf.”

"Well," Loki’s eyes glittered. "then let us arbitrate."

He looked you directly in the eyes and his grin was pure malice. “It is an elf, is it not? Well then, which of us knows this matter better?”

"Prince Loki, this one has little skill in spellcraft," you demured.

"Modesty does not suit you."

You swallowed hard and weighed your choices. You squeezed your eyes tightly shut. “In that case, this one must agree with you, Prince Loki.”

Thranduil looked like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over his head. For a moment he was entirely inarticulate, flapping his hand furiously.

"Get out of my sight, you wretched miserable creature." It was close to a howl.

You fled for the door, but it was suddenly barred.

"No." Loki grinned. "Stay here."

There was nothing to be done. You buried your face in your hands and groaned into your palms.

~~~

"You were dancing with Tauriel tonight," Thranduil accused.

"Mmm. She is a magnificent dancer."

"That is not why you asked her to the floor."

"Oh?" Loki’s eyes were mischief itself. "Why then?"

Thranduil growled. “You were trying to make me jealous.”

"Never," Loki vowed. They were standing just inside the door, merely three measures from your face. Once again, you were invisible. Neither of them so much as glanced at you. Until Loki darted his hand behind your neck, proving he was well aware of your presence. "You see… if I wished to make you jealous, there are much more effectuous ways."

The hand behind your neck yanked you forward, into Loki’s arms. The only thing running through your mind was: oh, shit; oh, shit; oh, shit. There was no way this could end well. You had been trained in body service. It was an expectation of the position, although Thranduil had never requested it. You were proud of your skills, but at that moment you found yourself flailing like a never kissed virgin.

Loki ignored this and pulled you into a kiss both gentle and vicious. He walked you into the wall and pressed you back with a hand at your shoulder and another at your hip. You risked a glance behind him.

Thranduil’s eyes blazed at you, promising murder and a thousand slow tortures. Loki drew back slowly.

"It kisses better than you," he taunted. You cringed.

Thranduil sneered. “Loki. You are pathetic.”

Thranduil wound a hand into your hair. You reminded yourself that being murdered wasn’t in the job description. Not that that mattered much. You wondered if begging would make it quicker.

"You like contests, Loki, let us see how you fare with one of my own devising. You think it so easy to make me feel jealousy? I was pleasing lovers before you were a babe at suck."

"You brag too much. My brother may be a god of fertility, but it is known throughout the Nine Realms that where I take aim, there my arrow falls."

Thranduil combed his free hand through his hair and flung it out around him. “If you think my words exceed my reach, then you will have no objection to proving me wrong.”

"We cannot decide this between ourselves."

"Naturally not. Since you have already shown a preference, we will perform upon my servant, who will judge between us."

Loki paused for a long moment to consider, then smiled beatifically. “I accept.”

That was it then. You’d had a nice life. You would go to Mandos and wait for the remaking of the world. You were dead in the morning. If you said Loki was the better, Thranduil would have your head. If you said Thranduil, Loki would turn you into an insect. If you said they were equally skilled, surely they would murder you together.

Yet… you looked between them.

Yet tonight you would take your pleasures where fate gave them. Let the morning hang and be damned.

(For your edification, it is true that Middle Earth comes etymologically from Midgard. Tolkien took MANY elements of his mythology from Norse origin.)


End file.
